


Lesbian Necromancers in Space

by Level20Lesbian



Category: RWBY, The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Body Horror, Crossover, F/F, Grimdark, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Level20Lesbian/pseuds/Level20Lesbian
Summary: Blake Belladonna is a penitent of the Ninth House, hiding from her past. Ruby Rose is a necromancer prodigy from the Fourth, seeking adventure and excitement. Yang Xiao Long is her sister's Cavalier Primary, wanting only to keep her sister safe and maybe get a little excitement of her own. Weiss Schnee is a royal necromancer of the Third, out to live up to her name and seize control of her own future. Together, they're all drawn to Canaan House in the ruins of the First House, to the promise of ascension to Lyctorhood, and with it, power and immortality. But Canaan House contains more secrets than any of them bargained for, all of them dangerous and many of them deadly, and a hidden enemy stalks the corridors. Will they be able to attain the power they each seek, and in the end, will it be worth the cost?----More or less follows the plot of Gideon the Ninth, but with characters from RWBY and a few alterations.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Welcome to Canaan House

The halls of the Ninth House were a dark, dismal, and skeletal place. Far from the light of Dominicus and sunken deep within the cracked core of the planet, populated almost entirely by ancient bones and nearly-as-ancient adherents to the Locked Tomb, and dying an agonizingly slow death of attrition, Drearburh was not, by any definition, a pleasant place to live. It was not even a pleasant place to _die_ , considering death simply meant having your bones bound in servitude to the House until they turned to dust. It did, however, make for an excellent place to disappear for the truly desperate, because almost no one would ever bother to look for you there, which is precisely why Blake Belladonna chose it.

The life of a penitent was not an enjoyable one; the work was disgusting and dirty, the company unsettling at the best of times, and the food utterly abhorrent always, but Blake did not need luxury. No, she needed a quiet place to hide from her past, atone for her crimes, fade into obscurity, and eventually die. She’d come to Drearburh on a barely functional shuttle nearly four years previously, but anyone who wasn’t familiar with her would swear she’d been born in service to the Tomb. Blake certainly fit the part: pale skin and raven hair, quiet and somber demeanor, and rarely seen in public these days without the black vestments and skull paint of the Ninth. 

“Why are you here?” the Marshal of Drearburh, a dusty and greying middle-aged man named Qrow, had asked her when she arrived.

“I wish to spend my life in penance,” she’d replied, keeping her head low and eyes cast down, hoping a display of subservience might convince the man to move things along without too many questions.

“You’re barely more than a child. Young even by the standards of the other houses, and nearly an infant by the Ninth’s. Hell, _I’m_ young for the Ninth. What could you have possibly done that demands penance?” he’d asked with a frown. Blake had said nothing. Where would she even start? After an uncomfortably long silence that had felt to Blake like the passing of a myriad, he conceded.

“Fine. Who am I to deny you. Come with me and we’ll set up your papers.”

So from that point onward, Blake had been a penitent of Drearburh, a member of the Ninth House and servant of the Locked Tomb, and every day for the last four years had been spent exactly the same: wake up in the dark to the clangorous sound of the morning bell, tidy her cell and apply her paint, help the skeletons prepare the grey and flavorless substances that were served for meals, sweep out the ossuaries of any bonedust that had fallen from the slowly decaying servants of the Ninth, join the nuns in prayers to the Tomb and to the King Undying, and retire for another cold and restless night on the stone slab that passed for her bed.

It was on one such day - shortly after her twenty-first birthday if she’d been counting correctly, though she couldn’t be sure - that Blake was approached during her sweeping by Marshal Qrow and a tiny woman who she’d seen only a few times in passing and during muster calls, and had spoken with even less.

“Reverend Mother,” Blake said, lowering her head in a shallow bow. “You honor me with your presence. May I ask, what is the reason for your visit?”

Reverend Mother Maria Calavera, the ancient, blind, and nearly decrepit head of the House of the Ninth, simply waved a hand in a silencing gesture. 

“None of that nonsense. And pick your head up, I won’t have you staring at the dirt if we’re to have a conversation.” Blake straightened out, cheeks warming slightly under her paint. For a blind woman, Maria was certainly perceptive.

“Of course. Apologies, Reverend Mother.” 

The old woman sat down on a nearby bench and motioned for Black to join her. Qrow hovered a few feet away, being generally ominous as was his wont.

“Sit down, Blake. I have a proposition for you,” she said. Confused, Blake left her broom leaning against the wall and cautiously took up the other side of the bench. The Reverend Mother continued as soon as she touched the cold stone. “As you may have heard, we have received summons from the Emperor.”

Blake was stunned. She’d heard the rumors, of course; for as much as the Ninth was all about its secrets, it was small enough (and the nuns often bored enough) that gossip still spread like a fire in the oxygen cycler. She hadn’t given them any credence, though, because as far as she knew, the Necrolord Prime was still thousands of lightyears away, locked in combat against his enemies, and his Houses - and certainly the Ninth - had not had any direct communications from him in many years.

“What has he asked of us?” Blake asked, unable to prevent a small amount of amazement from seeping into her voice.

“He is in need of new Lyctors, and he has called each of his Houses to provide an heir to ascend to the position.”

If the first piece of news had caused Blake’s jaw to drop, this one had her picking up the pieces of her mandible off the ossuary floor. Lyctors, the seven saints who served at the side of the Emperor Undying himself, were necromancers of unbelievable power who had attained immortality alongside their God. They could single handedly defeat hordes of enemy soldiers, kill entire planets, and recover from nearly any wound. For all their power, however, they were not invincible, and after ten thousand years of fighting the Emperor’s enemies, their numbers had been reduced by half. And now the Emperor was asking to fill the ranks. It was unbelievable, but if the Reverend Mother said it was so, it must be so. But Blake was still confused.

“That is… truly an honor, Reverend Mother, but I do not understand what this has to do with me.” Maria turned to look at Blake, milk white blind eyes seeming to find Blake’s own amber.

“Because with no necromantic heir having been produced by the Ninth House in two generations, the responsibility falls to me. And I find myself in need of a Cavalier Primary to accompany me to the First.”

Blake’s spine stiffened. There was no way the Reverend Mother could know. It was a coincidence, surely.

“I’m… s-sorry, Reverend Mother, I still don’t understand why you’ve come to me.”

“Don’t bother, Belladonna,” said Qrow. “We’ve known since the first day you got here. You hold yourself like a Cavalier. And don’t think I haven’t seen those blades you keep in your cell.”

Shock turned quickly to panic. Blake’s Cavalier’s rapier and chain had been the only things she’d kept of her old life, hiding them in her locker instead of disposing of them like had been required of all her other belongings when she became penitent. If they knew about those, and they knew about her training, it wasn’t that far of a jump to find out who she’d been before, and if they could find that, well…

She certainly wouldn’t be welcome in Drearburh. Blake cursed herself for the thousandth time for not thinking to give herself a new name.

As if she could sense Blake’s panic, the Reverend Mother reached over and patted her on the knee in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture, but ultimately had very much the opposite effect.

“We have no idea _which_ House you trained under,” she continued, “because we never looked. Quite frankly, I don’t particularly care. Most who run to the Ninth have good reason, and after years of quiet service with no trouble cause, I see no reason to pry. But it still stands that you are just about the _only_ able-bodied person in our House with Cavalier training, and I would ask that you make use of that ability.”

Blake stared. “Surely Marshal Qrow would be a more suitable selection, Reverend Mother?” She knew the Marshal had Cavalier training himself, and had been serving informally as a stand in for Cavalier Primary for years. Maria scoffed.

“Qrow’s getting too slow in his old age,” she said.

“Hey now-”

“And I’m no spring chicken myself. We need some new blood in play if we’re going to even our odds a bit. And besides, Qrow’s the only other person in this whole damn graveyard I trust to keep the place together while I’m gone. If I take him with me, who’s to keep the Ninth running? No, you’re the best option we’ve got.”

This went against everything Blake had planned for the rest of her life. She was supposed to stay on the Ninth until she died and thereafter, so that she could minimize the amount of damage her continued existence caused to everyone around her. She was supposed to disappear into the shadows where it was safe and not return. She was _not_ supposed to go galavanting off to a dead and abandoned planet to help an old woman gain immortality. Her stunned silence must have gone on for too long, because Maria continued speaking.

“The Ninth is dying, Blake. Give it a few more generations and we’ll all be dust, and then who will watch the Tomb? The only thing that will save us now is a miracle, and there’s only one man in the universe who can give us that, and this is a way to get to him. I will not force you, but I have to try, and I truly believe you to be my best option.”

Blake didn’t know how to respond. One the one hand, leaving Drearburh meant potentially exposing herself and putting everyone around her at risk. But on the other, what Maria had said was true: the House of the Ninth wouldn’t last another century if things continued the way they were. If they did nothing, it would surely fall. And if the Ninth fell, then wouldn’t Blake now be responsible for its loss through inaction, since she now had the chance to save it? Could she live with yet more destruction on her hands? Blake took a deep, slightly shaky breath, and made a decision.

“Reverend Mother, I will be your Cavalier.”

\----

“I’m going to be a _Lyctor_ , Yang!”

Yang Xiao Long pinched the bridge of her nose and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Yeah, Ruby, I know, and if you keep this up all of Tisis is going to know, too.”

Ever since the summons had arrived earlier that day calling them to the First, Yang’s younger half-sister, Ruby Rose, Heir to the House of the Fourth and Duchess of Tisis, had carried on a nigh-unstoppable excitement. Certainly understandable, given the content of the summons, and Yang loved to indulge her sister’s adorable hyperactivity, but she was not a woman of infinite patience, and the official announcement of the summons wasn’t scheduled until the next day.

Plus, if she was being totally honest, Yang was having a hard time imagining her baby sister as an immortal being of immeasurable power. 

“And you’re gonna be my _Cavalier_ , Yang! It’s gonna be, like, the coolest sisterly bonding trip _ever_!”

That was also true. Yang was not a necromancer. She was not even part of the Fourth House nobility, technically speaking. Ruby’s mother had been the noble, not Yang’s, and their father had married her two years after Yang had been born, so she got left out. She was just a Cavalier, but God knows she was the _best_ Cavalier in the Fourth, even if the primary reason she was Cavalier Primary was because of her relationship to the House’s necromantic heir. 

“Can you even _imagine_ the _adventure_ ? We’re gonna get to see _so much_ cool stuff! Not to mention all of the awesome Lyctor-y stuff we’re gonna learn!” 

There wasn’t much “we” in that last one, Yang thought. Ruby loved seeing different types of necromancy in action, but it was all pretty much the same to Yang. She’d already survived two Cohort tours, which meant she’d seen an awful lot of necromancers in action, and quite frankly they were all a very similar brand of gruesome. She’d take a Cohort longsword or a Cavlier’s rapier and knuckles over death magic anyday. Not that she’d ever say that to Ruby.

“And we’re gonna meet all the heirs of the other Houses! It’s gonna be so rad to see everyone all in one place and learn about all their homes and traditions and...”

Ruby was already nineteen, and had only recently finished her first tour with the Cohort, but she still had in her so much of the perpetually awestruck little girl Yang had practically raised herself. It was, quite honestly, astonishing how much innocent wonder she kept about the universe when she’d seen for herself how nasty and brutish it really was. But Yang swore to the Emperor himself she’d make sure she never lost it.

“I’m just so _excited_!”

And for as exhausted as she was, when Ruby stood right in front of her and stared straight at her with those great big silver eyes, she found it impossible not to be excited, too. Yang quickly reached out and put her sister in a headlock - an easy task given Ruby had the slight, almost withered frame of a necromancer - and tousled her red-tipped black hair.

“Me, too, pipsqueak. Now come on, you’re gonna need some sleep so we can get you up and about bright and early for the announcement. The shuttle ride is gonna be hell if you’re not rested up.”

“ _Yaaaang, let go_!”

\----

Sure enough, the shuttle trip to the First was every bit as awful as Yang had promised.

Ruby hadn’t been able to sleep a single minute that night, as thrilled as she was about the prospect of everything that lay before her. She was going to be a _Lyctor_! Imagine all the good she’d be able to do with that kind of power, all the lives she’d be able to save fighting on the frontline. She hoped her mother would be proud of her.

Had she still been alive, however, Summer Rose _definitely_ would’ve joined Yang in chiding her for not sleeping, and she would have been terribly, painfully right. The announcement ceremony had gone over well enough; Ruby was used to public appearances by now, being the Duchess and everything, and to be fair her father generally did most of the talking for her; She just had to say a few words and look good. Going out into the cold vacuum of space in a metal box, on the other hand, was an absolute nightmare for a necromancer.

So far away from a planet - somewhere where things were always dying and generating a constant stream of thanergy for her to pull from - and into the void of space where there was _nothing_ and _no one_ , Ruby had never felt more awful in her life. She’d done this a few times on her first Cohort tour and had hated it every time, but they had always been short trips, and the Cohort had tricks to keep her running so she’d be ready for drop. The trip from the Fourth to the First, however, was long and _empty_ , and doing it on no sleep was just about the worst mistake she’d ever made.

“Yaaaang, I think I’m _dying_ ,” she moaned, leaning against her sister dramatically. Yang, all dressed up in the official navy blue dress uniform of the Fourth House’s Cavalier Primary, rapier and knuckles at her belt and her glorious mane of golden blonde hair free about her shoulders, just looked at her with laughter in her violet eyes.

“I mean I hate to say I told you so…”

“No, you don’t.”

“...but I told you so. Chin up, we’re almost there, anyways.”

Sure enough, only a few minutes later a planet of the most beautiful blue she’d ever seen, speckled with gorgeous white clouds, appeared in the viewport of the shuttle.

“Wow,” Ruby breathed. Yang squinted as though she was looking for something.

“I don’t see any other shuttles,” she said, right as the remote pilot’s communicator crackled to life.

“Looks like you’re the first ones there,” he said. “The others should be arriving shortly. They’re scanning you now, and we’ll have you down on the ground in no time.”

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Ruby near-shouted as the craft started moving towards the planet. This whole space thing was really incredibly overrated. As they started to touch the atmosphere of the First, though, everything changed in an instant. Ruby felt _alive_ again. Or perhaps that was not exactly the right word, considering it was thanergy she suddenly found herself utterly flush with. The power present on this planet was just… unbelievable.

“Ruby? Fourth to Ruby?”

Ruby realized she’d zoned out when Yang started waving a gloved hand in front of her face. She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes.

“Huh? Sorry, what?” she said. Yang looked concerned.

“You went total space-case on me there for a minute, pipsqueak. Started to think you’d had a stroke or something. You look a little less green, though,” Yang said. Ruby looked out the window, now uncovered once again as they’d completed reentry. From their current position above the planet, all she could see was ocean, the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen, stretching all the way to the horizon, where it was met by a sky just as vibrant and gorgeous. It was mesmerizing.

“Never in my life would I have imagined a place like this, Yang,” Ruby said quietly. Yang snorted softly.

“Yeah, it’s real pretty, but get your head in the game, girl. We’re touching down in two minutes.” Ruby shook her head.

“No, Yang. It’s not just pretty. It’s a _graveyard_. The amount of thanergy I have access to right now is just…” she trailed off. Yang didn’t seem to have a response for that, and the sisters sat in silence for the last of their flight, watching the telltale streaks of the other shuttles arriving in atmosphere behind them. The ocean sped by underneath, and pretty soon they were landed on a great metal docking bay, and the shuttle doors were opened to reveal yet another astonishing vista: they had arrived at a glorious castle, stretched out upon the surface of the ocean in beautiful terraces and towers.

Or at least, Ruby imagined that was what it _had_ looked like, once. Now, they marveled at the _corpse_ of a castle, worn down by time and coated in many places by the salt of the ocean. Much of the outer reaches had long since collapsed and crumbled into the water, and the gardens that must have once covered the exterior were rotted away to nothing. And yet, it was still a wondrous sight to behold.

Once they’d moved past the view, they noticed an old man standing at the base of the loading ramp directly in front of them, hands clasped behind his back. He was a moderately tall, broadly built man in a well-tailored, double-breasted white suit trimmed with gold. His hair was white-grey, and both it and his almost comically large eyebrows were impeccably groomed. The whole ensemble combined with the unmistakable signs of aging on his face gave him much the same feeling as the castle itself: incredibly old but relatively well-preserved, almost as though he’d been frozen in time. He called out to Ruby and Yang as they disembarked from their shuttle.

“Hail to the Duchess of the Fourth House!” he called. “Hail to her Cavalier! Hail to the Hope and the Sword of the Emperor!” After a second of silence and a quick elbow jab from Yang, Ruby remembered the proper response.

“Um. Hail to the House of the First. Hail to the King Undying,” she responded by rote. The old man continued in his jovial tone, seemingly unperturbed by her hesitation.

“Hail to the Lord over the River! And welcome to his house!” he said. “Welcome to the Duchess Ruby Rose and to Yang the Fourth. I am the keeper of the First House, and servant of the Necrolord Prime, and you must call me Teacher, as I stand in the stead of our Lord, and I hope that one day you might call him Teacher, and that I might call you Ruby the First! Be at rest, Duchess Rose. Be at rest, Yang the Fourth. Please, come into the sanctum; I must go and greet the others.”

And with that, he was off, striding off towards one of the other shuttles to their right whose ramp was just beginning to lower. As Ruby looked about at the landing shuttles, she noticed that the odd old man - Teacher, apparently - was not the only other figure on the docks. There were a number of others all around, guiding the shuttles into their bays with long metal poles, and it took her a minute to realize that they were all _skeletons_ , dressed up in white robes and moving with a deliberation that was almost disconcerting. 

“Well that was a weird as hell start to all this,” Yang said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that formal before. Even our tutors in Tisis weren’t that deadset on procedure.” She gave Ruby a little wink as though to punctuate her thoroughly terrible pun. “Let’s head inside. Everything smells like salt out here.”

“No, I wanna see everyone else,” Ruby responded. “Just until everyone is here, then we can go in.” Yang just shrugged and stood with her hand on her sword, probably trying to look as intimidating as possible. It was pretty effective.

The shuttle which Teacher had gone off toward was marked with brown and gold, the colors of the Fifth House. Standing on its ramp, presumably having the same conversation Ruby had just had, stood a thin man in a simple suit, slightly taller than Teacher, with a short mess of black hair and kind looking magenta eyes. Despite the strangeness of their current environment, he looked remarkably calm. By contrast, behind him stood his Cavalier, a short woman with red hair, bouncing back and forth on her heels like she was about to dash off the platform at any moment. As her brown cloak moved with her, Ruby could see the rapier at her waist, paired with what looked to be a small mace on the other side.

Beyond the shuttle of the Fifth sat what could only be the Second House’s shuttle, not just for the red a white markings on the craft, but for how incredibly starched and serious the two women coming out of it were. The Cavalier came first, a woman with impossibly pure white hair tied up into a neat bun atop her head. Her ridiculously straight posture made evident the rapier she carried, as well as the main gauche sheathed alongside it. Behind her stood a younger woman with long red hair, who maintained the same serious pose as her Cavalier, but looked about the platform nervously as though she was rather unsure of what she was doing here.

The last shuttle on the right bore no marking at all, but as the ramp lowered it was immediately apparent which House it carried. The two occupants were a tiny old woman and a young woman behind her, both clad entirely in pitch black robes, their faces painted alabaster and black in the images of skulls.

“Woah,” whispered Yang. “I’ve never seen a Niner in person before. That facepaint sure is something else.” It certainly was, Ruby thought. If they were trying to come off as the most terrifying thing on the dock, they were currently succeeding, even though they were only a frail old crone and a slight girl who can’t have been any older than Yang. As Ruby turned her head toward the other side of the platform, she couldn’t help but notice that Yang’s eyes stayed locked on the girl.

To their left, another three shuttles were in the process of depositing their passengers onto the docks. The first carried a brunette in grey robes who was looking around the platform with bare curiosity, apparently already taking notes in a small notebook. Next to her stood a tall woman with dark brown hair who seemed to be making her grey and silver uniform into a fashion statement, complete with a silver beret and large, dark sunglasses that somehow gave Ruby the impression that she was glaring at every single one of them, despite the fact that she couldn’t actually see her eyes.

Past them was the shuttle of the Eighth, dressed up in white and silver. As soon as the ramp dropped, a tall and imposing man with deep red hair dressed in an imposing white suit and wearing a white mask that covered his eyes but for two narrow slits strode out with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Flanking him were not one but _two_ Cavaliers in hooded white robes. One was noticeably taller than the other, but the similarity in their faces easily identified them as brothers.

“Huh. Interesting,” Yang whispered. Ruby cocked her head in question. Yang nodded subtly toward the Ninth House. “She doesn’t like the Eighth much. It’s almost like she’s _scared_ of them; her eyes went all wide for a second and she moved herself and her necro to put as many people between them as possible. Plus I’d be willing to bet that movement under her cloak is her getting ready to draw her weapons.”

“I bet it’s their necromancer,” Ruby whispered back. “He’s giving me big creep vibes. Although his buddies aren’t much better. There’s something about them that makes my skin crawl.” Yang shrugged.

“That’s the Eighth for you. All the real nasty rumors might be about the Ninth, but Eighth get up to some real shady shit,” she said. “I wouldn’t trust them.”

Ruby nodded and turned back to the final, ornately decorated shuttle. Teacher had made his way over to it, and he stood between her and what must have been the Third’s necromancer. To his side she could see their Cavalier, a tall, muscular woman with bright red hair in a beautiful dress uniform of purple and gold. She carried her weapons openly; a rapier to one side and an incredibly ornate buckler strapped to her arm. She made an incredibly imposing figure, but still managed to make herself seem kind and pleasant with how she held herself.

When Teacher stepped aside, Ruby finally got her glance at the Third’s necromancer, and immediately almost tripped over her own feet. She felt the need to rectify her earlier thought: the blue of the oceans of the First was the _second_ most brilliant blue she’d ever seen. First place went to the eyes of the necromancer of the Third House. They were absolutely breathtaking, and it took Ruby a good minute to notice the rest of her: pristine white hair tied in a long side braid, perfectly tailored gold and violet dress that stopped just above the knee, easily held, perfectly straight posture, and an almost bored expression on her face that flickered in annoyance for only the briefest of seconds as Teacher walked away. She was _captivating_. And she had also noticed Ruby staring, which was not great. She looked down sharply, cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“Damn, you’d almost think those two from the Second and Third were related,” Yang commented. “Same hair, same eyes. Can’t be a coincidence, I’m sure. Wonder what the story is there.” She turned her head, looking around the whole of the platform, then furrowed her brow. 

“Hang on, there’s only seven shuttles.”

\----

Weiss Schnee, Heir to the House of the Third and Crown Princess of Ida, was not having a good day.

First of all, she’d been carted off across the solar system in a _shuttle_ , of all things, which was an _incredibly_ unpleasant way for a necromancer of her status and ability to travel. Second, she’d been immediately greeted by perhaps the most obnoxiously chipper old man who’s rigid adherence to decorum would put even her own family to shame, and who had demanded she call him “Teacher,” of all the inane things. Third, when she asked why there were only seven shuttles on the dock, she’d been informed that there was a slight issue with the House of the Seventh, and that they’d have to wait just a little longer before they could get settled in. And fourth, she’d just caught one of the soldier girls from the Fourth House _staring_ at her.

All in all, _not_ an auspicious start to her ascension to Lyctorhood. 

The third problem was at least resolved within a few moments, as the eighth and final shuttle at last arrived in its docking bay next to the Fourth’s shuttle, and out walked the necromancer and Cavalier of the Seventh. Although “walked” was perhaps the wrong verb. “Stumbled” might be more accurate. “Sprawled” might be even better, as the necromancer - a woman with short black hair and a patch over her left eye - took a few shaking steps out of the shuttle and promptly collapsed in a heap on the dock.

The necromancer of the Fourth, the one who had stared at Weiss a few minutes earlier, was upon her in a second, placing a hand against her back and moving to help her stand. Before she could get very far however, a green haired woman leapt from the shuttle and placed the tip of a rapier against the Fourth girl’s throat. Her other hand hovered over a long sickle that still hung at her side. Following the trend, the Fourth Cavalier drew and leveled her own rapier at the Seventh Cavalier, slipping a hand inside the breast of her uniform jacket and withdrawing a set of knuckle knives.

Pyrrha Nikos, Weiss’ own Cavalier, quickly stepped between her and the commotion, placing a hand at her own rapier. 

“Stand down, Pyrrha,” she whispered. “I want to see what happens.” Pyrrha moved aside, but still looked ready to fight.

“Yo, step off,” said the blonde brute of a Cavalier from the Fourth. The Seventh’s just sneered back in response.

“Emerald! My goodness, stand down!” cried the collapsed woman weakly, apparently having recovered at least some of her senses. “They’re only trying to help! I am so very sorry, Fourth, she can be… overprotective, at times. Do forgive her.”

“Yang, it’s fine,” the Fourth necromancer said. “Stand down. Really, I should’ve expected that.” She looked down at the frail Seventh woman. “You _fainted_ , though, I couldn’t just stand there.”

The Seventh necromancer laughed and brushed some blood away from her mouth as she was helped to her feet. “Yes, I _do_ do that. I do appreciate your assistance… Duchess Rose, presumably? I hope we can put this little incident behind us.”

“As long as greeny keeps her pointy objects to herself, we’re good,” said the Fourth Cavalier - Yang.

“You heard the lady, Emerald,” said the Seventh woman with the tone of a chiding mother. “No more pointing rapiers at others.” Emerald didn’t say anything in response, only nodded and continued glaring at Yang. 

“My goodness, Duchess Fall, is it really so advanced?” Teacher, who had by now worked his way back to the disturbance, asked. The Seventh woman nodded.

“I’m afraid so. It’s quite alright; I’m very used to it by now.”

“You should not have come, my Lady; I’m sure the Emperor would understand.”

“But isn’t it beautiful that I did?” she said with a weak smile. “Now then, Emerald, kindly retrieve my cane for me so we can be moving on. We’ve caused enough of a distraction already.”

As the rest of the platform slowly made their way into the sanctum, Weiss felt another, taller person step up next to her.

“Hello, sister. I’m glad you’ve arrived safely.”

Only upon hearing the voice of her older sister did Weiss realize she had not taken the time to fully examine the rest of the platform’s occupants before the distraction. 

“Winter!” she exclaimed. “You’re here! I mean, you’re obviously the correct choice, but I wasn’t sure, given…” she trailed off.

“I assure you, I’m quite well respected among the Second.”

“Clearly,” Weiss said, then looked down and lowered her voice. “I do still wish you were with me though. Pyrrha is quite capable in her own right, but everyone knows you were the finest Cavalier the Third has ever produced.”

“And yet we both know why I could not stay,” Winter said. Weiss did know. With things with her Father the way they were… well. Ida was certainly not a welcoming home for Winter any longer. Especially not now that Weiss had taken her role as Crown Princess.

“Nonetheless,” Winter continued, “We will be seeing plenty of each other in the days to come, I’m sure. I look forward to seeing how much you’ve progressed and witnessing your ascension.”

With that, they had reached the inside of the Sanctum. It was a gorgeous room, with high vaulted ceilings and floors made of real wood and marble. A number of couches and benches sat around the room, and the rest of the necromancers and Cavaliers had already taken positions on them. The skeletons - _skeletons_ , if you could believe it! - who acted as the servants of the First House carried around trays full of steaming tea. Weiss took one and waited for Pyrrha to test it, giving it a cautious sip after her Cavalier gave her a thumbs up. It wasn’t half bad, really. Not great, but not terrible. Especially not for skeletons.

Once everyone was settled, Teacher, seeming excited and chipper as ever, stepped into the center of the room. 

“Now then!” he began. “Let us pray for the lord of that which was destroyed, remembering the abundance of his pity, hispower, and his love.”

Weiss had never been much of one for prayer, and stayed silent as the majority of the rest worked their way through the Prayer to the King Undying. Three others also did not speak, she noticed: Winter, which did not come as a surprise to her, and the Cavalier of the Ninth and the necromancer of the Eighth. Those two simply stared at each other with something that approached open hostility. Weiss hoped to God that they wouldn’t start up the _second_ round of inter-House conflict since they’d arrived.

After the Prayer was complete, and Teacher had invited the necromancer of the Ninth to add the final lines which Weiss had never heard before - they were unique to the Ninth, it seemed - Teacher clapped his hands together and said brightly, “Now I’ll welcome you to Canaan House! Will someone please bring me the box?”

Someone, as it turned out, was yet another skeleton, bearing a small wooden chest. Teacher opened the lid and announced, “Winter the Second!”

Winter stood from her position near Weiss and walked up to Teacher. He reached into the box and withdrew a small object, which he handed to Winter before she turned and walked back to her seat. Before Weiss could see what it was, Teacher called, “Pyrrha the Third!” and then Pyrrha brought back her own. It was a small iron key ring, utterly uninteresting in every way, which was, in itself, extremely interesting.

Following this, each of the Cavaliers got their opportunity in turn to retrieve their key ring: Yang the Fourth, Corinne the Fifth, Nora the Sixth, Emerald the Seventh. When Teacher got to the Eighth, he stopped briefly. “I apologize, Master Taurus, but I do not know which of your Cavaliers is your Primary. This is rather unusual.”

The Eighth necromancer, seemingly unperturbed, said, “Simply refer to them as Albain the Eighth. They are both my Primary, and they act as one. I’m afraid it is quite necessary for someone in my position.” 

Teacher, appearing no less confused than before, soldiered on nonetheless, calling, “Albain the Eighth!” to which both of the Cavalier brothers stepped up to retrieve their ring. Finally, Teacher called for “Blake the Ninth!” and they were done. Each House had their key ring, and each appeared to be trying to determine if it held some secret or puzzle.

Before anyone could ask any questions, Teacher continued. “Now the tenets of the First House, and the grief of the King Undying.”

“I will not tell you what you already know,” he said. “I seek only to add context. The Lyctors were not born immortal. They were given eternal life, which is not at all the same thing. Sixteen of them came here a myriad ago, eight adepts and the eight who would later be known as the first cavaliers, and it was here that they ascended. Those eight necromancers were first after the Lord of Resurrection; they have spread his assumption across the blackness of space, to those places where others could never reach. Each of them alone is more powerful than nine Cohorts acting as one. But even the divine Lyctors can pass away, despite their power and despite their swords … and they have done so, slowly, over these ten thousand years. The Emperor’s grief has waxed with time. It is only now, in the twilight of the original eight, that he has listened to his last Lyctors, who beg for reinforcement.

“You have been nominated to attempt the terrible challenge of replacing them,” he said, “and it is not at all a sure thing. If you ascend to Lyctor, or if you try and fail—the Kindly Lord knows what is being asked of you is titanic. You are the honoured heirs and guardians of the eight Houses. Great duties await you. If you do not find yourself a galaxy, it is not so bad to find yourself a star, nor to have the Emperor know that the both of you attempted this great ordeal.

“Or the _all_ of you,” he added, nodding towards the House of the Eighth, “as the case may be. Cavaliers, if your adept is found wanting, you have failed! If you are found wanting, your adept has failed! And if one or both is wanting, then we will not ask you to wreck your lives against this impossible task. You will not be forced if you cannot continue onward—through single or mutual failure—or make the decision not to go on.

“This is not a pilgrimage where your safety is assured. You will undergo trials, possibly dangerous ones. You will work hard, you will suffer. I must speak candidly—you may even die … But I see no reason not to hope that I may behold eight new Lyctors by the end of this, joined together with their cavaliers, heir to a joy and power that has sung through ten thousand years.”

This was the first thing that got any kind of reaction out of the room. Some of the Houses looked nervously at each other. Taurus looked positively happy. The Duchess of the Seventh continued to seem wonderfully unaffected by anything around her. Weiss refused to show any kind of weakness, but felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Now,” Teacher said. “To practical matters.

“Your every need will be met here. You will be given your own rooms, and will be waited on by the servants. There is space in 

abundance. Any chambers not given to others may be used as you will for your studies and your sitting-rooms, and you have the run of all open spaces and the use of all books. We live as penitents do—simple food, no letters, no visits. You shall never use a communication network. It is not allowed in this place. Now that you are here, you must understand that you are here until we send you home or until you succeed. We hope you will be too busy to be lonely or bored. 

“As for your instruction here, this is what the First House asks of you.”

The gathered aspirants waited with bated breath; finally they would get some kind of instruction.

“We ask,” said Teacher, “that you never open a locked door unless you have permission.”

They kept waiting. And waiting. And after a long, deeply uncomfortable silence it became apparent that no more was forthcoming.

“That’s it!” said Teacher.

The collectively held breath went out of the room in incredibly underwhelmed confusion. The young necromancer from the Fourth ventured to ask, “So, uh. Do we get like, lessons, or something? On how to be Lyctors? How do we… do it?”

Teacher laughed. “Well _I_ certainly don’t know! You’re the ones who will be ascending to Lyctorhood, not me. I’m certain you can figure it out without any input from us.”

Many in the room looked positively stunned; some mouths hung open in surprise. They looked first to each other, and then to Teacher, seemingly searching for some sign that this was all some elaborate joke, but one look at the old man confirmed quite clearly that he was not, in fact, fucking with them.

Weiss, on the other hand, simply smiled, perhaps a bit deviously. This was a _challenge_ , and she was going to rise to it. She even had an idea of where to start.

Finally, as the others started to stand to find their respective quarters, Teacher added, “Welcome to Canaan House!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a writing exercise I'm doing to work myself back into writing before NaNoWriMo. I figured it would be decent practice to just write something where I don't have to worry about plotting or character work or worldbuilding since it's already been done, and that it would be fun to do that by smooshing together the two things that I'm really into right now. I don't know how far into it I'm gonna get, and I dunno if I'll even keep going all the way to the end - my track record would say otherwise, but we'll see how much you all and I are enjoying it.
> 
> The archive warnings won't apply just yet, but I am going ahead and sticking them there because the setting of this story is VERY grimdark, and it will absolutely get bloody. I probably won't be as murderous as Tamsyn cuz I don't have it in me, but it certainly isn't the happiest of stories. Nonetheless, I hope anyone who wants to read for as long as I keep writing it enjoys it.
> 
> Side notes for this chapter: yes, Teacher is supposed to be Professor Port, and I’ve made the executive decision that Coco is a nickname because “Coco the Sixth“ frankly sounded kinda silly.


	2. Vow of Silence

The only thing Blake could think about for the rest of the day was that he was _here_ , which was a bit of stupid thought because _of course_ he was. Adam Taurus was the Heir to the House of the Eighth, there was absolutely no reason why he _wouldn’t_ be here. And once upon a time, Blake would’ve been here with him.

She chided herself for the thousand and first time for not thinking to rename herself. If Adam hadn’t recognized her when they’d first arrived - which was certainly possible given her new wardrobe of black cloaks and thick face paint, although she expected otherwise given how he’d stared at her all the way through the prayer in the sanctum - he’d definitely put two and two together and come up with four once Teacher had called her name. After four years apart, Adam Taurus had finally found his Cavalier, and the only thing she could hope for was that he wouldn’t dare to try something surrounded by seven other pairs of talented necromancers and Cavaliers.

It was almost certainly too much to hope for, she thought.

Blake decided that her best shot would be to simply avoid the others as much as physically possible. It shouldn’t be too difficult; Canaan House was large, and full of dark corners, and her time with the Ninth had only enhanced Blake’s ability to lurk in shadows. Staying in their rooms was as good an option as any when Maria needed to rest, but Blake would need a decent reason to stay away from others while she was aiding her necromancer.

“Reverend Mother, I wish to take a vow of silence,” she said that first evening, when she and Maria were depositing their few belongings into their closet. Maria gave her a strange look.

“Whyever _for_ , Blake?” she asked.

“I wish to continue my penance while we are at Canaan House, and besides, I feel I would be little more than a distraction to you and the others. I’m afraid I’m of little use when it comes to necromantic studies,” Blake answered. The Reverend Mother continued to stare at her, and Blake could swear those blind eyes could see into her soul. After a long pause, Maria relented.

“Fine. I don’t suppose I can _force_ you to speak, in any case. But I want it on record that I think this is silly and pointless,” she said. Blake only nodded - might as well begin immediately. She had her excuse now; she would hardly make for an interesting conversation partner if she didn’t speak, and combined with the already tremendously gruesome rumors about Ninth House penitents that she knew circulated the other Houses, she hoped it would be enough to make the others steer clear of her.

Now she just had to avoid Adam and the Albains.

When they awoke the next morning - though “awoke” is perhaps the wrong word for Blake, as she had hardly slept at all - Maria set about right away with making plans while they applied their paint.

“First thing’s first: I want to get a closer look at those skeletons. They’re positively _marvelous_ ; I’ve never seen a bone construct so perfectly put together and animated. I’m certain there’s a great deal to learn from them,” she said, no small amount of excitement lining her tone. Blake wasn’t entirely sure how she meant to “get a closer look” when she was stone blind, but then again, the Reverend Mother had never had any kind of trouble getting around despite her apparent disability.

They made their way down to breakfast together. The great hall full of tables where they’d been instructed to take their meals was very nearly empty, though sadly not entirely. Four figures sat clustered around one end of one of the long wooden tables: the Fourth and Fifth houses. A number of skeletons milled about, some cleaning, others serving the surprisingly boisterous group. Mercifully, Maria chose a seat on the opposite side of the hall, and Blake followed suit, sitting down across from her.

Within a few minutes, a series of skeletons shambled up to them carrying bread and what looked to be oatmeal, accompanied by more of the same tea they’d had the day before. Maria seemed uninterested in the food, preferring to examine the skeletons as they worked, but Blake had sorely missed breakfast with actual _flavor_ . The oatmeal was made with _cinnamon_! She hadn’t had cinnamon in years. She finished the bowl faster than she’d have liked, and a skeleton quickly stepped in to take it from her. When she turned back from the servant, she found herself looking right at a navy-gloved hand.

The hand was attached to a woman, specifically the Cavalier of the Fourth House. The woman - Yang, Blake recalled - was quite striking. Her blonde hair ringed what was, up close, a soft and kind face set with friendly violet eyes. Blake stared.

“Yang the Fourth,” the woman said. “Yang Xiao Long, Cavalier Primary of the Duchess Rose.” Blake found herself glad of her new vow, because try as she might she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“You won’t get much out of her,” said Maria, rescuing her. “She’s taken a vow of silence.” Yang looked confused, and withdrew her hand.

“Oh. Apologies. I’m afraid we’re not terribly well versed in the customs of the Ninth. I meant no offense.” She leaned in towards Blake and Maria and said in a quieter voice, “Between you and me, I think Ruby and Nora are a bit fascinated.”

Blake peered around Yang’s side and over at the other table. Sure enough, the Fourth necromancer - Ruby - and Nora the Fifth were both staring at them like they couldn’t quite believe Yang was actually talking to them. When they caught her looking, Ruby let out a high-pitched _eep!_ and the two quickly turned back to their food. The Fifth’s necromancer just kept eating his breakfast, looking thoroughly uninterested.

“You are welcome to join us, if you’d like,” Yang said. “Ruby likes making new friends, and it seems like we’re all stuck with each other for a while one way or another.”

“Perhaps when I don’t have so much work to do,” said Maria, who was getting up and headed towards Teacher, who had just entered the hall. “You should drag my Cavalier over there, though. She’s much too antisocial, and she needs to interact with people her own age for once.” Blake shot her a look, and she laughed. “I’ll be _fine_ , Blake. I’m just going to talk to Teacher for a while about these wonderful skeletons. You won’t be needed for a bit.”

Blake turned back to Yang, who still wore a grin so bright it almost hurt Blake’s eyes. Blake shook her head slowly to indicate her opinion on the matter as she stood to leave, and Yang’s face fell slightly. She recovered quickly enough, and said brightly, “Well, perhaps another time then! Good day, Ninth.”

An unexpected pang of loneliness went through Blake as she departed the dining hall. That wouldn’t do; she couldn’t go off making friends. Especially not _now_ , with Adam so close by. It would only end badly. She pushed the feeling aside and returned to her room. She spent a couple hours there, polishing and sharpening her rapier and chain, and waiting for the Reverend Mother to return. When it became apparent that she wouldn’t be back, Blake got restless. She ought to be doing _something_. At the very least she wished she had chores to do to keep her occupied, but the skeletons seemed to take care of everything, and Blake wasn’t sure she’d be welcome to help them like she was in Drearburh. If only she had her old books…

Now there was a thought. Surely a place as big and magnificent as Canaan House had to have a library. It might not be in particularly great condition, but Blake hoped that if she could find it, she might be able to salvage _something_. Plus, maybe she’d find something to help Maria. Who knew. She just hoped it hadn’t fallen into the sea like so much else. 

Canaan House was a maze. A dusty, ancient, half-rotted maze. Much of the building was constructed of stone and metal, but in places it was built of ancient wood which was old and soft. Some of the once-ornate wooden doors had nearly fallen from their hinges, and more than once Blake had to turn back when she encountered a section of hallway whose floor had collapsed into the ocean below. She searched for hours, and yet she could not find a library. She sighed; she was never so lucky.

On her way back, however, she noticed something of interest. Another door, which would not have been an especially startling discovery if it were not excellently hidden under a staircase behind a mouldering tapestry which had started to come off the wall. Blake pulled the tapestry aside, and opened the door which was, to her great surprise, not locked. Behind it was a dark and windowless hallway, and at the end, another door. This door was the most interesting one Blake had come across so far; it was huge, covering nearly the entire wall, and made of black stone. It had no handle of any sort, just a single keyhole, and an ornately carved frame. She pushed against the cold stone to little avail; it was locked tight.

Exiting back out to the stairs, Blake made a mental note to point out the black door to Maria later. Perhaps she would have some idea of what to do with it. Almost on autopilot, Blake closed the hidden door behind her, and pinned the tapestry back up against the wall so it would not fall down. Tucked away as it was into the shadows, it was unlikely anyone would ever notice it without already knowing it was there. She didn’t know why she hid it; maybe the Ninth was rubbing off on her more than she realized.

Voices sounded coming down the stairs, and Blake pressed herself back into the corner near the door, trying to remain unseen while they passed.

“-death trap, honestly. I almost fell through the floor this morning! If I was more conspiracy minded, I’d say the First House is trying to _kill_ us all in the most convoluted manner possible,” a voice said, high-pitched and indignant.

“Surely you’re not throwing in the towel already, sister?” a second voice said. The first voice scoffed.

“Hardly. I’ve already made headway. I think I’ve found a lead, but I’ll need to talk to Teacher about it first.”

“Ooh, a lead!” said a third voice excitedly. “Friend Weiss, what did you find?”

There was a brief silence before the first voice responded again.

“Later, Penelope. Perhaps when we’ve returned to our quarters. This place has a million little hiding places, and I don’t trust the other Houses. Who knows who might be listening in.”

Blake stiffened. They couldn’t know she was there, could they? No, surely not. They were still on the stairs, and with her black cloak she was nearly invisible in the darkness. She pressed herself even flatter against the wall nonetheless as the group descended the stairs and into her view. It was the Second and Third Houses; the two white-haired women who Blake had assumed had to be related - given the conversation, it seemed she was correct - followed by the Third’s incredibly imposing Cavalier, and the necromancer girl from the Second, who was talking to her cavalier with obvious glee.

“There’s so many _secrets_ here, Winter,” the girl - Penelope, Blake assumed - said. “It will be so much fun to find them all. And so many potential friends as well! I’ve talked to Duchess Rose a bit and she’s promised to show me some theorems later and…” 

“Perhaps you should be a bit more cautious, Penny,” said Winter. “You would not want to…” she trailed off.

“What is it, sister?” the younger white-haired girl asked. Winter turned slightly and looked _directly_ through the spot where Blake was hiding.

“...nothing, Weiss. Come, we should retrieve dinner before we retire to discuss things,” Winter said, pulling open another door and holding it while the other three passed through. It was a bit odd to see a necromancer deferring to a Cavalier, but sure enough both of the younger women followed her instruction. When they had all gone through, Winter paused for a moment behind them, and looked back toward Blake, who instinctively tried to pull even further into the shadows even though there was nowhere to go.

“Spying is unbecoming, Ninth,” she said in a voice so low Blake barely heard it. “I will assume no ill intent this once, but do not believe I will do so a second time. You would do well not to make an enemy of the Second or Third Houses.”

And with that, Winter walked through the door, pulling it closed behind her, leaving Blake alone and slightly shaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna try to make the chapters shorter, and flip between perspectives each time instead of doing everyone in one like I did with the intro.


	3. Duchess to Duchess

The early days at Canaan House were a strange time for Ruby. The place felt like a bizarre combination of the luxury she was used to in Tisis and the slipshod nature of her time on the battlefields with the Cohort. She knew she should be working, trying to find some kind of clue to the path to her Lyctorhood, but she just couldn’t  _ focus _ . Her environment was too unfamiliar.

She had already taken steps to remedy that problem, however. In the first two days she’d made three new friends: Penelope Polendina - Penny, as she’d been told to call her, now that they were friends - and Nora the Fifth were both absolute delights. Nora’s necromancer, Lie Ren, was much more reserved, but he was nice, and seemed to just go along with Nora’s whirlwind of energy most of the time, so she supposed they were friends now, too. Penny’s Cavalier was not so nice; Winter had told her in no uncertain terms not to distract Penny from her work with her “antics,” which Ruby had found frankly a bit insulting, because Cavaliers weren’t supposed to be bossing the necromancers around. That was, like, the opposite of how this was supposed to work.

The Eighth House still made her nervous, so she tried to steer clear whenever they were around, and the Ninth had made it apparent that they didn’t plan on interacting much when they were around. She hadn’t encountered the Sixth or Seventh Houses at all since the first meeting.

Which left the Third. She’d learned a bit about them from Penny, and she wanted badly to be friends with Weiss Schnee. A  _ princess _ ! Of all the things to find at Canaan House. Ruby thought it would be incredibly cool to be friends with a princess. And there was something about those eyes…

Weiss, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly uninterested in anything to do with Ruby. The only words she’d spoken to Ruby were: “Stare at me again and I shall remove your eyes from your skull without so much as a drop of bloodsweat.” Which was kind of a scary thing to say, certainly, but Ruby couldn’t seem to find it in herself to be scared of Weiss. Something told her she was much more bark than bite. Pyrrha the Third had just given her an apologetic smile before running after her necromancer, and Ruby hadn’t seen them since.

Today, she had decided to do a little exploring. If she could get herself properly oriented, then perhaps she’d be able to find her way towards a start to her problem. She’d left Yang behind in the dining hall after breakfast; she hadn’t put up much of a fuss, saying she “had something in mind, anyways,” and to come down to the room with the pit that afternoon. 

Ruby walked through quiet corridors, opening doors and looking into corners, marking down areas that had been made inaccessible by collapse or debris on a little map she’d started to draw on a sheet of flimsy. Canaan House was so bizarrely  _ bare _ of anything that might be useful for learning necromancy; it was a strange choice of locales for something that was ostensibly supposed to be turning them into the greatest necromancers in a myriad. Ruby found herself actually wishing she had a tutor, something that she had  _ never  _ wished before. She shuddered a bit at the thought.

She only noticed that she’d spaced out while walking when she exited a flight of stairs into the open air of the First, and found herself in a garden. Garden was, perhaps, a strong word for “a collection of barely living plants that all looked like they would shrivel up and die at the slightest provocation,” but it was the best descriptor Ruby could come up with. Within the garden, relaxing on a shaded chair with a small pile of books, was the Duchess Fall, without her Cavalier, and apparently asleep.

It was only when Ruby turned to leave that she discovered that that last part was not entirely accurate, as the woman called after her quietly, “Don’t go.”

Ruby turned back to see the necromancer looking at her curiously.

“Duchess Rose,” she said. “I don’t believe I ever got a chance to thank you properly for your assistance our first day here. Won’t you sit with me for a while? I get so terribly little company up here.”

It seemed a silly request to refuse, and so Ruby sat, perching on a low wall nearby.

“Wonderful,” said Duchess Fall. “Titles seem such an insignificant thing, don’t you think? Especially between two women of equivalent status. May I call you Ruby?” Ruby nodded, then paused.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I, um. I don’t actually know your first name.” 

“Amber,” the Duchess said with a chuckle. “You know, Emerald has told you’ve been making friends with the others already. Now that we’re on a first name basis, I do hope you would consider me among them.”

Ruby smiled wide. Friend number four acquired. She was getting better at this already.

“Yeah!” she said. “That would be great!”

“Excellent,” Amber said, smiling right back. They sat in silence for a heartbeat, Ruby unsure of exactly to say, then Amber spoke again. “You’re a soldier, Ruby. Or have been, at the least. May I ask, what was it like, fighting out there on the front, so far from home?”

Ruby wasn’t sure how to answer that question. It was a messy answer, and she didn’t like to think too much about it. Amber continued.

“I’ve been dying since I was born, you know. A disease, genetic. I’ve always known I would die, one day. Realistically, it should have been two or three years ago. It’s quite fascinating that I’ve managed to hold on this long.” She paused. “I’m getting off topic. My point is that I’ve always fantasized about the different ways to die, which ones I would prefer. My House would have me waste away beautifully in a locked room in a castle somewhere so they could write poems about it. But me? I’ve always thought it would be so wonderful to die a hero, slain fighting the good fight, blaze of glory and all that.” She sighed.

“It’s a bit beyond me now, obviously. But it was a nice fantasy, for a while.”

“Four for fidelity,” Ruby said, without fully realising she’d started speaking. “Our cause is supposed to be for the Emperor and his Houses, to fight to enforce his will and protect our homes. And I guess it is always kinda like that. There’s not really any getting around it. But I always felt that the smaller scale matters so much more. I fought because it has to be done, and if I didn’t do it, then someone else would be forced to. And I was literally born for it, so hey, may as well be me.”

Ruby didn’t know why she was saying these things. They weren’t how a necromancer of the Fourth was supposed to think, and the only other person she’d ever talked to about it was Yang. But somehow she felt like she wanted to tell Amber. She felt like the Duchess could understand, somehow, even though she’d obviously never been a soldier.

“As noble a goal as any ever was.  _ And  _ just the tiniest bit heretical,” Amber said with a sly smile. “I certainly won’t tell, though. To be totally honest with you, with time I’ve begun to wonder really what the point is, of so many dying so young, whether they’re left to waste in the Seventh or sent from the Fourth to die in battle, or...”

Again, Ruby didn’t know quite how to respond. This was the strangest conversation she’d ever had, by far, and Amber the strangest person she’d ever met. It was almost like there was something beneath, a thousand words unspoken.

“Oh, look at me!” Amber said, laughing. “If I keep on like this I really shall blaspheme, and then we will have to have Master Taurus execute me!” Ruby wasn’t entirely sure why that was funny, but the Duchess Fall seemed to find it positively hilarious.

“I’m sorry, I’m not really sure what you’re talking about…” Ruby started, but she was interrupted when Amber suddenly stopped laughing and looked her directly in the eyes.

“You know, you have the most brilliant eyes, Ruby. Silver is… such a rarity. Remarkable.” she said. She had the strangest look in her eye, like curiosity and recognition mixed into one, and Ruby found it utterly unsettling. Fortunately for her, at that moment Emerald entered the garden.

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” she sneered at Ruby, who was startled by the venom in her voice.

“Um. I. Uh…”

“Oh, don’t be such a lout, Emerald. She was just keeping me company while I waited for you to return,” Amber said. She looked back at Ruby. “But I do have business with my Cavalier now, so I must request that you take your leave. I hope you don’t think me rude.”

“Oh, uh. Of course not. I’ll just… be going then,” Ruby said, hopping down off the wall and making her way to the door. “I’ll… see you around, I guess?”

“I certainly hope so!” Amber called after her as she descended the stairs back into Canaan House.


	4. To the Floor

“I’m sorry, you want to  _ what _ ?”

Weiss sounded absolutely  _ scandalised _ , though for what possible reason Yang could not imagine.

“I was actually talking to your Cavalier, but since you asked, I’m setting up sparring matches for the Cavaliers. Blow off some steam, shake off the rust, all that,” Yang responded. It was really a simple request. Surely practice duels were a common thing among Cavaliers of the Third House. Pyrrha the Third certainly looked pleased by the suggestion. Yet Weiss was having none of it.

“That is positively brutish. There is no sense in invoking violence for  _ fun _ , especially not when there is so much work to be done, and  _ especially  _ not in a holy place!” she hissed.

Yang sighed. She had pretty much expected this reaction; the Princess of Ida seemed to have a stick perpetually lodged about as deep in her ass as it could go. Unfortunately, it was impossible to talk to Pyrrha the Third without going through her necromancer, as the two were never separate. Fortunately, she’d already set up a backup plan.

“Come now, Sister,” said Winter as she walked past them, pulling on her gloves. It had been much easier to sway the older Schnee than Yang had anticipated; she was apparently just always itching for a chance to show off. “It’s just a bit of practice. Besides, I would think you would relish the opportunity to prove the Third superior.”

That pretty much did it. Weiss flushed a deep red mixture of anger and embarrassment, and turned to her Cavalier. 

“And I suppose you also think this is a good use of our time?” she demanded of her. Pyrrha just nodded her head sheepishly. Weiss rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I suppose you have earned an evening; I give you leave to join the other Houses. I will be in my quarters reviewing my notes. I have no desire to take part in this,” she huffed, and stomped off back to her room. The tiny woman stamping her high heels off down the hall was among the funniest things Yang had ever seen, and she barely suppressed a laugh.

Pyrrha let out a long-held breath as soon as she was out of the room, and her posture relaxed.

“Thank God, I thought she’d never leave.”

Yang actually did burst out into laughter at that. Pyrrha flinched and looked toward Winter.

“Please don’t tell her I said that. I adore your sister but she can be… difficult at times.”

“I know full well how she can be,” Winter said with a dismissive wave. “Fourth, pull yourself together and stand up, this is  _ your _ arrangement, after all.”

Winter and Pyrrha walked down the hall to the room where she’d instructed everyone to meet. Yang stood and brushed herself off, still chuckling as she entered the room behind them. It was a large chamber, with a large pit set off to one side. It had been filled with an awful mess when they had first arrived, but now it was filled with skeletons, working to dredge it out. For what purpose, Yang couldn’t begin the guess. On the other, flatter side of the room, most of the rest of the Houses had gathered around an area that had been surrounded by chairs dragged down from the dining hall. Ruby stood in the center with Penny and Ren, chatting excitedly about something. Emerald the Seventh stood in one corner, although her necromancer had not been able to attend. The Eighth were nowhere to be found; they’d disappeared after the first day, and the only evidence that any of them were still alive was that the skeletons had apparently been instructed to take their meals to them in their quarters. The Sixth, on the other hand, had finally shown up, and the two sat off to one side on their own. That just left…

“Found ‘em!” shouted the loud voice of Nora the Fifth, who had just burst in from the other side of the room, dragging Blake the Ninth behind her. It was difficult at times to read expressions under all that paint, but as far as Yang could tell the Ninth Cavalier looked like she’d rather eat a handful of particularly vile insects than be in the situation she currently found herself in. Following slowly behind the two came the tiny figure of Maria Calavera, who Yang thought looked incredibly pleased with herself. 

“Alright!” Yang called. “We’re all here - everyone that’s going to be, at least - so who’s going first?”

Nora ran toward the impromptu ring, shouting something about dibs, but Winter and Pyrrha had already beaten them there.

“Shall we put on an exhibition, Third?” asked Winter. Pyrrha nodded, and drew her rapier.

“Lord Ren, would you kindly arbitrate?” Winter asked, though it sounded more like a command than a question. Ren didn’t seem to mind too much, and stood to the side of the arena, hands clasped behind his back and as calm and impassive as always.

“To the first touch,” he said, which Yang thought was terribly dull.  _ To the floor  _ was so much more fun. “Clavicle to sacrum, arms exception. Call.”

Winter raised her rapier in front of her, holding her main gauche at her side. “Winter the Second,” she announced. Pyrrha mirrored her, calling her own name.

“Seven paces,” Ren said, and the two turned and each took seven steps away from the other.

“Turn.” They turned back to face each other.

“Begin.” 

The two flew into motion, each launching a series of quick, deft swipes and thrusts at the other. Winter parried with her main gauche, and Pyrrha deflected with her rapier. It was an absolute masterclass. Each woman had absolute flawless form, and each executed their moves with lightning fast speed and perfect precision. The sound of steel filled the air as every blow met the other as though they had rehearsed beforehand. After about twenty seconds, the flurry ended, as Winter slipped the tip of her blade deftly beneath Pyrrha’s guard and tapped her lightly against the chest, just above her heart.

“Match to the Second,” Ren called. Pyrrha smiled, and the two stowed their swords and shook hands.

“Well fought,” she said.

“You as well,” Winter replied. “Make sure you always remember where both of your opponent’s blades are; you got distracted by the sidearm, and that was why you failed to guard.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. It was quite presumptuous of Winter to give her opponent pointers after a match. Pyrrha seemed unfazed.

“Thank you. I will be sure to keep that in mind.”

Pyrrha came to sit next to Yang as Nora hopped into the ring, demanding that someone give her a good fight.

“You two seem quite friendly,” said Yang, quietly.

“She taught me everything I know,” Pyrrha replied. “Before she left the Third. She’s very capable, and an excellent instructor.” 

There was a hell of a story there, Yang could feel it.

“Why’d she leave?”

Pyrrha paused.

“Um. I don’t really…” she looked away from Yang, back towards the ring. “Oh my. This ought to be interesting.” 

When Yang turned her gaze back towards the fight, Blake the Ninth now stood in the ring, shooting a glare back at Maria, who had evidently just pushed her into the center with her walking stick. 

“To the first touch, clavicle to sacrum, arms exception. Call,” Ren said again. 

Nora raised her rapier and practically bellowed, “Nora the Fifth.”

Blake just looked at him.

“Oh. Um. Right. I’ll call for Blake the Ninth, then,” he said. “Seven paces back. Turn.”

The two followed the command.

“Begin.”

If one had the misfortune to blink overlong at that exact moment, they might have missed the entire exchange. Yang, fortunately, had been watching the Ninth Cavalier’s every move, rapt. As soon as Ren called the start of the fight, the front of her black cloak burst open, revealing a fine looking rapier and a length of polished chain. Nora leapt towards her, swinging her offhand mace in an arc meant to unbalance her opponent, but Blake snapped the chain up and it looped around the weapon. She stepped deftly to the side, allowing Nora’s advance to thunder right past her, before pulling the chain, spinning the other woman around and pulling the mace out of her grip. As Nora stumbled back toward her, bringing her rapier up to make another strike, Blake countered with her own blade, directing the tip of Nora’s into the floor, and placed her foot on it as she brought her sword back up to rest right under Nora’s neck, at the very top of the legal area.

The whole thing had taken about two seconds.

Yang might’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Even Ren’s perfectly stoic expression had finally been shattered, and he stood there watching, slack jawed. He finally caught back up, and managed to call out, “Match to the Ninth.” 

“Goddamn,” said Nora.

The room was suddenly full of talking again.

“I barely even saw her  _ move _ ,” Penny said.

“Three moves!” Ruby was near-shouting. “Three moves!”

“I’ve never even  _ seen  _ someone use the chain before,” from Pyrrha. “That was spectacular.”

Yang still hadn’t taken her eyes off Blake, and as the other woman brought her gaze back to her audience, the two met. Yang smiled.

“Me next,” she said.

“She just fought, Fourth. Perhaps the Sixth…” Winter said with a frown.

“Nah,” said Yang. “She didn’t even break a sweat. I think you’re ready to go, and I want my turn before you run off again.”

Blake scowled at her and withdrew her arms and weapons back under her cloak, but made no move to exit the ring. Yang stepped forward, and slipped her knuckle knives on out of the breast of her jacket. 

“Alright then,” said Ren. “To the first tou…”

“Nope,” said Yang. “To the floor. I want this to be  _ fun _ .”

Ren looked concerned, and whispers went up all around the circle. Ren looked to Blake.

“If you have no objections…”

Blake never took her eyes off Yang.

“Well. Okay. To the floor. Clavicle down, no exception. Call.”

“Yang the Fourth,” Yang called, bringing up her rapier and feeling the slightly manic smile cover her face.

“I call for Blake the Ninth. Seven paces. Turn.”

Yang took her steps, and when she turned back to face the Ninth Cavalier, she could have sworn that Blake looked almost as excited as she was.

“Begin.”

Yang dashed forward. Blake’s cloak opened and the chain once again slithered out onto the floor, but Yang already knew this trick. Blake would look for her to overextend just the slightest amount, then use the chain to overbalance her and finish her off. It would be even easier this time around, since she could now aim for Yang’s limbs and only needed to get her to the ground. Yang did not intend to give her the chance.

Yang moved in quickly, narrowly avoiding the first whip of the chain as it lashed out at her. As soon as she’d closed with Blake, Yang stayed close, not wanting to give Blake the space she would need to bring her sidearm to bear. It was not an easy feat. Blake was a master on the defense, countering Yang’s rapier strikes and dodging low jabs from the knuckle knives. She kept moving back as they circled each other, trying to keep Yang at arm’s length. It was irritating, but Yang kept on the pressure.

Finally, Yang thought she’d gained an advantage, stepping into Blake’s guard and bringing her knuckles up high to shift the pattern she’d built up. Blake snapped up her chain hand, and Yang assumed that would be that - there was no way she’d be able to leverage her chain this close. But Blake surprised her, releasing her grip on the chain as she brought it up, and allowing the grip end to wrap itself around Yang’s arm, while she ducked under the blow, slipped around Yang’s side, grabbed the other end of the chain, and pulled.

It was a genius move, and it almost worked. It  _ should  _ have worked, but Blake, like many of Yang’s opponents, had evidently underestimated Yang’s strength, and as the chain snapped taut, Yang grabbed it, twisted it once around her knuckles to get some leverage, and pulled back, wrenching the weapon out of Blake’s grasp. Blake, suddenly finding no resistance, tumbled backwards and landed flat on her back on the stone floor. Yang, having never used a chain before, was unprepared when the back end snapped back and wrapped around her legs, and she found herself falling forward a half second after. Yang put her arms out in front of her on instinct, and suddenly she was on the ground.

Right on top of Blake, hands planted on the stone on either side of her head.

If you had asked Yang how she  _ thought  _ today was going to go, being practically nose to nose over the painted face of a Ninth House penitent would  _ not  _ have been anywhere near the top of her list. This close, she got her first really good look at Blake the Ninth’s eyes: brilliant and bright amber, almost gold. They were…  _ captivating  _ didn’t seem like a strong enough word. Just as she couldn’t stop herself from staring, Blake’s gaze was stuck fast on her own. Yang was close enough to see the streaks in her paint where perspiration had fallen from her brow, close enough that she could feel her breath coming heavy from exertion. 

Close enough that if she moved ever so slightly, she could-

“Match to the Fourth!” Ren called, and the disruption snapped the two of them out of whatever trance they’d fallen into. Blake, blushing so hard Yang could see it through the cracks in her paint, shoved Yang off to the side, gathered up her chain, and fled the chamber.

Yang sat up and looked around. The whole room had gone deathly silent, and everyone was staring at her. Maria was the first to clear her throat.

“I suppose I’d best be off to bed, then,” she announced. “You youngsters have fun.” With that, she turned and hobbled away the same direction Blake had departed in.

“That was... quite the display, Fourth,” said Winter, looking a bit taken aback.

“You’re supposed to  _ fight  _ your opponent, Fourth,” called the Sixth Cavalier. “Not  _ fuck  _ them.”

“Okay, ew! Nope! We’re  _ so  _ not going there!” Ruby shouted, covering her ears. “I do  _ not  _ want to talk about my sister doing that.”

That made Nora fall out of her chair, cackling with laughter, and soon the rest of the room followed, breaking the tension. Yang pulled herself to her feet, straightening her jacket and trying to keep the flush from rising in her cheeks. She didn’t know what in the hell had happened just there, but she certainly wasn’t going to take time to examine it right now.

“Alright,” she shouted to be heard above the noise. “Who’s next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not generally great with fight scenes, but I think these turned out okay.


	5. Trial and Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting a bit more gruesome starting with this chapter. 
> 
> Also I've added a chapter count, as I've figured out how I want to split up the remaining plot. I don't know when/if I'll actually write all those chapters, however.

Weiss was having a bad night. It was becoming a bit of a pattern, really; she hadn’t had a good or even a halfway decent night since they’d arrived at Canaan House. But this night was going  _ particularly  _ poorly.

She had not, in fact, returned to her quarters after parting ways with Pyrrha like she had said she would. Instead, Weiss had climbed back up the ruined tower she and Pyrrha had discovered on their third night (an utterly hellacious task in heels, to be sure), had opened the hatch within that she had received a key to from Teacher, and entered the research facility which was hidden underneath Canaan House.

The facility was an uncomfortable place. It’s hallways were hexagonal and claustrophobic, the floor and ceiling were both simply grilles through which could be seen exposed pipes and pumps, and the lights were white and harsh. Eventually, the main hall opened up into a nonagonal room with more passages leading away in each direction, individually labeled: 

LABORATORY ONE-THREE

LABORATORY FOUR-SIX

LABORATORY SEVEN-TEN

PRESSURE ROOM

PRESERVATION

MORTUARY

WORK ROOMS

SANITISER

When she and Pyrrha had come here first, they had simply started to the left and planned to work their way around. The first room on the first branch, LABORATORY ONE, had been largely a waste of time: a mostly ruined and dusty lab space filled with little but empty shelves and desks. LABORATORY TWO, on the other hand, was much more intriguing, but there they had run up against a wall, so to speak, and had not yet progressed any further.

The first half of Lab Two looked very much like Lab One, save for the walls, one of which was taken up by a large plex window and an open door leading into the next chamber. The door was marked RESPONSE, and it led into the room behind the window. Said room was utterly uninteresting: just a large, square, empty area marked only by a few vents on the opposite side. Another looked much the same, except it was marked IMAGING, and it was what was in that room that had had Weiss utterly stumped for  _ days _ .

The only things in the room were a wall of old machines, lifeless and useless, and a single pedestal in the center of the room topped with a panel of glass. When Weiss placed her hand over it and expended just a tiny amount of thanergy into the pedestal, the glass recessed and folded over her hand like a cage keeping her in place, the two doors to RESPONSE and IMAGING slammed shut, and RESPONSE filled with a noxious looking cloud of smoke. After that,  _ something  _ happened in RESPONSE. What exactly it was, Weiss didn’t know: as soon as she lifted her hand from the pillar the doors reopened, and the room looked as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had occurred. But the whole time the doors were shut, a terrible sound like the rattling of a thousand skeletons sounded from inside RESPONSE. 

Pyrrha had suggested that Weiss allow her to enter the room before Weiss activated the pedestal so she could see for herself what was causing the commotion, but Weiss would not hear of it. She would not risk her Cavalier so carelessly. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it was certainly dangerous, and sending Pyrrha in to fight it in the cloud of dense, possibly toxic smoke was incredibly likely to result in her untimely death.

Tonight, however, Weiss had come prepared: she’d brought with her a few of the blood samples Pyrrha provided her with as emergency power. She’d tipped a bit of the blood out onto the floor, and from it she drew up a simple construct: a ball of congealed blood and flesh that floated a few feet off the ground, trailing several long, tendril-like veins. Weiss gathered all the remaining thanergy from the spilt blood, drying it up to dust, and adding just a bit of her own reserves she strung up the construct with necromantic connections like a marionette before directing it into RESPONSE and activating the pillar.

It only took a few seconds after RESPONSE filled with smoke for the construct to be smashed to pieces, the thanergy strings Weiss was using to control it snapping back like broken piano strings. Weiss frowned. It had been a simple construct, sure, but still a construct of the Third House, and one summoned by Weiss Schnee, greatest necromancer of her generation at that. It certainly should have been more resilient than that.

Weiss spilled some more of the blood and called forth another, larger construct, this one resembling a misshapen bipedal wolf. It was much stronger and much tougher than the last; she even used a bit of bone dust to give it claws. She repeated her experiment, sending it forward into RESPONSE and placing her hand on the panel. This construct fared little better than the first, lasting perhaps slightly less than one extra second. Weiss sighed. This couldn’t be easy, apparently. She should have expected as much; it was a trial meant to prepare her for Lyctorhood, after all. At least, she assumed so. Why else would such a bizarre setup exist?

She emptied the rest of the first vial and tried again, this time creating a trio of the wolf constructs. Whatever was in the smoke seemed unconcerned by greater numbers, and the group lasted a scant seven seconds before being smashed. Weiss was at least developing a better picture of what was going on: her constructs were being crushed by blunt force rather than torn apart, and the obstacle apparently occupied nearly the entirety of the RESPONSE room. She was sure of at least two things now: she was definitely never letting Pyrrha anywhere near it, and that she was going to have to push herself to her absolute limit to make any meaningful progress.

Her third attempt she used the majority of a vial to create a swarm of tiny, scorpion like constructs, which she hoped would confound the thing long enough to at least scope out an outline of it. Controlling so many at once was not easy; bloodsweat began to bead at her skin, and a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. It was, at least, a moderately successful endeavor. Weiss was positive that it was indeed a bone construct that was smashing her creations, which meant she was going to need something with a good amount of strength to disassemble it. What she wasn’t sure of was where it was  _ coming  _ from. The few pieces of skeleton her scorpions had crawled over were much too large to fit through to vents she’d seen in the room, and there were seemingly no other entrances.

Weiss kept trying, using vial after vial of Pyrrha’s blood to create more and bigger constructs. Every single one of them met the same gruesome fate, making almost no progress on damaging their enemy. The window of RESPONSE was practically coated in blood and gore from her creations’ demise. Weiss herself wasn’t doing much better after about an hour; she’d started using the pillar in IMAGING as a support to stay standing, and her vision was starting to swim a bit. Her arms were coated in red streaks from the bloodsweat that poured out of her, her nosebleed was nearly constant, and a bit was even starting to work its way out of her tear ducts. She blinked it away, and took out the last two vials of Pyrrha’s blood. She would make one final attempt before calling it a night.

She emptied out the vials fully, and began creating a new construct, something she’d been designing but hadn’t had a chance to field test yet. If she wanted any hope of clearing this challenge, she was going to need her absolute best. Weiss took a full handful of bone dust out of her pouch and tossed it into the mixture as it started to rise. After a couple of arduous minutes of restructuring and tearing out a bit of her own hair to provide the thanergy strings, Weiss was left with an incredible flesh construct: it was nearly eight feet tall and covered in boneplates, and in place of its right arm it wielded a large blade made of muscle and edged with a layer of hardened osseous matter. It was beautifully gruesome. Weiss smiled. Surely her knight would be enough to conquer the RESPONSE construct. She directed it into the room, and again placed her hand on the pillar, this time leaning heavily into it, her legs barely able to support her weight. 

The knight lasted barely ten seconds.

Weiss wanted to scream in frustration, but she couldn’t bring herself to make any noise at all. Her throat was absolutely dry and her lungs burned, and her attempt to force air over her vocal cords instead resulted in her coughing up a handful of blood. It was at that point Weiss realized that she was perhaps in a bit of trouble.

She staggered out of LABORATORY TWO and back down the hallway toward the hatch, trailing bloody footprints on the grille the whole way, and smearing it against the walls where she leaned to keep her balance. Darkness edged her vision, and she became increasingly more unsure with every step of her ability to climb back up the ladder into the tower. She would have to though, as she had absolutely no intention of dying in a miserable little tunnel. Making it to the top was an absolutely herculean task, but she managed it, barely, using every bit of the rest of her energy.

Weiss let the hatch clang shut behind her, stumbled over against one of the walls of the tower, and let the darkness take her.

\----

“-never really stopped to look at  _ this  _ room. It’s fascinating though.”

“What could possibly be fascinating about a dusty old room, Velvs.”

“Well that’s just it! It’s really  _ very  _ old! The stonework is somewhere in the range of nine thousand years.”

“That hardly seems surprising.”

“Well. No, maybe not. But!  _ That _ is a good three thousand years younger than most of the stone, and  _ this  _ is only maybe fifty! It’s like the whole structure has been pieced together from all kinds of different eras!”

“That seems improbable.”

“Doesn’t it? But the only two conclusions I can come to are either that or that there is something  _ stupendously  _ wrong with this whole place.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Coco.”

“Can’t imagine another reason for you to keep me around, Warden.”

“And here I thought it was for your fashion sense.”

Weiss didn’t even remotely possess the mental fortitude to process any of that at this particular moment, but what she did know was that the two female voices - especially the high-pitched excited one - were playing absolute hell against the headache she’d rapidly been developing since regaining a modicum of consciousness only a few seconds previously. She groaned softly, and a sound like fingers snapping came from somewhere over her head.

“What’s that Nin… oh! She’s awake! Good!” the higher voice said. “Here, let me give her another check.”

Weiss heard shuffling around her, then at last snapped her eyes open when she felt something cold and metal press against her neck and found herself looking into the big brown eyes of the Sixth House necromancer. She held something that looked like a bit of wire against Weiss’ neck, with the other end jammed into her hand between her fingers.

“Breathing and heart rate are more stable now. Still tremendously dehydrated and horrendous hypovolemia, but that’s on the mend, too, now she’s come around,” the woman said. “You know, you very easily could’ve died, Weiss. A little while longer and you probably would’ve gone into shock. You’re quite lucky Blake found us first.”

It was at this point Weiss realized she was laying in someone’s lap. Tilting her head upward, she found the painted face of Blake the Ninth.

“Pretty stupid move if you ask me, Princess, leaving your Cavalier behind like that. It’s dangerous down there, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Be nice, Coco.”

“I’m just saying, Velvet…”

“Pyrrha,” Weiss managed to say weakly. “Where’s… Pyrrha.”

“Teacher went to get her,” Corinne the Sixth said. “He was with us when the Ninth found us. We came on ahead to make sure you didn’t do anything else idiotic like  _ die  _ while we waited for her. You know Blake broke her vow of silence just so she could tell us you’d damn near killed yourself. I think a bit of gratitude might be in order.” She grinned wolfishly. “Although I don’t know that I’d describe that show in the sparring room as especially penitential, so she might’ve fucked that all up already anyways.”

Blake gave Coco the meanest glare Weiss had seen on anyone other than herself, but under her painted skull Weiss could swear the Ninth Cavalier was  _ blushing _ .

At that moment, Pyrrha came rushing through the door.

“Princess!” she shouted. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“She’ll be fine, Third,” Velvet said. “She’s just overextended herself, albeit quite severely. She’ll recover her blood supply alright on her own now that she’s conscious. Rest and fluids, plenty of both.”

“Got it,” Pyrrha nodded. “Thank you, Master Warden. We’re very grateful for your assistance.”

“Thank the Ninth for finding her,” Velvet said. “And don’t let her run off down there alone again. I don’t know exactly what’s in that facility, but whatever it is is unimaginably dangerous.”

Pyrrha pulled Weiss up onto her back with a bit of help from Blake, and the group set off back toward the main structure of Canaan House. It wasn’t long before the combination of her headache and blood loss lulled Weiss back into unconsciousness. 


	6. This Makes Us Even

The next time Blake saw either member of the Third House was at lunch the next day. She was sitting in the dining hall with Maria, trying to figure out how to fill Maria in on the previous night’s events - she had no desire to break her vow a second time in as many days when there were no lives at stake, and the Reverend Mother couldn’t read anything she wrote down - when Pyrrha walked up to their table.

“Pardon my intrusion, Ninth,” she said, “but my Lady wishes a word with you in our quarters.”

Maria tilted her head.

“I suppose this has something to do with whatever it was that brought my Cavalier back covered in blood last night?” she asked. Pyrrha looked surprised.

“Did you not tell her?” she directed at Blake. Blake narrowed her eyes and pointed to her own mouth, and then to Maria’s blind eyes.

“Oh,” Pyrrha said, sheepishly. “Of course. Apologies. Well, I’m sure Princess Schnee would be willing to explain, if you would be willing to join us?”

“Sure, why not,” Maria said with a shrug. “Now I’m even more curious. Lead the way.” 

The two followed Pyrrha the Third up into one of the towers of Canaan House, where the quarters of the Third House were located. It seemed as though great lengths had been taken to make Weiss feel more at home here: royal violet tapestries decorated with the seal of the Third hung on the walls next to paintings that were not ancient enough to have been an original part of Canaan House. Inside the room itself, a veritable mountain of cases had been piled neatly against a corner, the bookshelves were filled with books, a proper tea set had been set out on the table, and the bed was draped in fresh silk linens. It was all ridiculously extravagant and incredibly unnecessary, in Blake’s opinion.

Weiss was sitting cross-legged on the bed, fully clothed and still looking a bit paler than her normal pallid self, with a pile of notebooks and papers spread out in front of her. She looked up when they came in.

“Good. You’re here. I would stand up to greet you but I’m afraid my legs are still a bit shaky, so you’ll have to forgive my poor manners,” she said by way of hello. “Now then, business. I’m afraid I find myself at a disadvantage, Ninth, given that you have saved my life.”

“What?” Maria asked. “What were you two getting up to last night?”

“I expended a bit more energy doing research last night than I had intended to, and your Cavalier managed to locate me and retrieve help by briefly forgoing her vows before I went into shock,” Weiss said deadpan, as though these kinds of things happened regularly. “That said, I believe I ‘owe you one,’ as my Cavalier has put it, and I do not like having favors owed held over my head. Therefore, I am going to offer you some information, and you are going to consider my debt paid on my terms.”

Blake and Maria stared at Weiss, then each other, then back at Weiss. The sheer  _ nerve  _ of this woman was utterly unbelievable. Blake hadn’t even expected any kind of payment for what she’d done, and here Weiss was making it sound like a business transaction. After a drawn out silence, Maria shrugged.

“Sounds fair,” she said, and hobbled over next to Weiss to sit in a chair that Pyrrha had pulled up for her. “What’ve you got?”

“Excellent,” said Weiss. “Now, after last night, your Cavalier is now aware of the existence of the facility beneath Canaan House. I’m sure she would lead you there in her own time, but I will save you the trouble. It is an abandoned necromantic laboratory, and within it, someone has set up what appear to be challenges, or trials, if you will. I believe that through the completion of these challenges, one might gain an understanding of the mechanics of attaining Lyctorhood.”

“And I assume your current condition involved you trying out one of said challenges?” Maria asked. 

Weiss paused briefly.

“Yes. Well. I haven’t quite got it figured out yet, I’m afraid. You see…” 

The pair continued on talking about the trial Weiss had attempted, using such terms as “thanergetic backlash,” “maintaining ocular perception,” “autonomous construct theorems,” and “regenerative osseous material.” Blake didn’t have the slightest clue what they were talking about. She looked over at Pyrrha. Pyrrha just shrugged. Great.

“Have you considered that perhaps the trial is meant to be undertaken by two seperate people?” Maria asked. “It would be much easier if someone was able to see what you were fighting, and we both know you’re not going to be able to build and hold together a pair of eyes long enough to get a good look at the thing.”

“Briefly. I have discarded the idea, however, as it would be almost certainly lethal for anyone who entered the chamber. And besides, if these challenges are meant to assess our ability to become Lyctors, then surely we must be able to complete them on our own, else how can we claim to be properly prepared?”

Maria scratched her chin and thought for a moment.

“I think it’s not quite as simple as all that,” she said, “but I admit I haven’t got an alternative theory. I’ve got a simpler question, though: how did you get inside? We were told not to open any locked doors, and you don’t strike me as the rule-breaking sort.”

“We were not to open any locked doors  _ without permission _ ,” Weiss explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I have obtained permission, and thus, a key. I merely had to ask Teacher for it and he gave it to me. When I inquired after keys to the other locked doors, however, he refused. Something about their keys ‘not belonging to him, and therefore not his to give away.’”

“I would assume there are many locked doors in an old place like this. Perhaps they’ve been lost.”

“No,” said Weiss. “There’s more to it than that. I have counted nearly eight hundred doors in this building, and of all of them, not including the facility hatch, there are only six doors that are locked. I don’t know how to obtain the keys for them, but I imagine it has something to do with the trials.”

“You  _ counted  _ the doors?”

“I identified nearly two hundred the first night alone.”

“...you must have been an absolute joy in school.”

“My tutors adored me, I’ll have you know.”

Blake was trying really very hard not to laugh. The Third princess was so completely lacking in self-awareness that it was downright comedic. Pyrrah’s poker face was significantly better than Blake’s - she had to be used to Weiss’ particular manner by now - but Blake could still see the hints of mirth turning up the corners of her smile. She was snapped out of her distraction by a quick snap across the shins from Maria’s walking stick.

“Blake! Pay attention! Come here and tell us if your door is on the Third’s map,” the Reverend Mother demanded.

She did as she was bid, crossing over to the bed and looking over Weiss’ accumulated notes. Sure enough, there was a map there, sketched neatly and expertly on a large piece of flimsy. It was a map of the entirety of Canaan House, or at least the accessible portions, and it was marked all over by little numbered  _ X _ s, which Blake assumed were the aforementioned doors. Below the map of Canaan House was a smaller map, which had to be the abandoned research facility. Each room was labeled with a name, and the one labeled LABORATORY TWO was circled. Weiss hadn’t been lying; she’d been  _ incredibly  _ thorough.

Blake ran her finger over the map, looking for the spot where she’d found the hidden hallway. She’d spent enough time wandering the halls, and the map was detailed enough that she found it fairly quickly, and when she did she smiled at Weiss and placed her finger on it. It felt good to get one over on the Princess. Weiss’ brow furrowed.

“What are you talking about? I’ve been through that vestibule a dozen times and I’ve never seen another door there.”

“It’s hidden,” explained Maria. “Behind an old tapestry under the stairs. It’s nearly impossible to find if you aren’t looking.”

Weiss continued looking quite consternated for a moment, and then her eyes lit up.

“ _ Secret  _ doors!” she said excitedly. “I don’t know why I hadn’t considered the possibility. Pyrrha, we shall have to go back to all-”

“Tomorrow, Princess,” Pyrrha interrupted. “You have to recover your strength first.”

Weiss rolled her eyes but made no argument.

“Of course, tomorrow,” she said. She picked up a beautiful fountain pen from the pile of notes and slid the nib end between her lips and into her cheek. When she pulled it out it was neatly coated in blood, and she used it to mark another  _ X  _ onto the map where Blake had pointed.

“That seems unnecessarily gruesome,” Maria said, eyebrow raised.

“I shan’t hear any judgment from you, Black Vestal, not while you’re covered in that awful paint.”

“Touche.”

Weiss began gathering up her papers.

“Now then, I am exhausted, and I would very much like a bath and a nap. I believe this makes us even, Ninth?” she said, in a tone that made it clear they were being dismissed. Blake bristled at the command.

“We’re square, Princess,” the Reverend Mother said. “Come on, Blake. We need to go see Teacher about a key.”

Pyrrha led the two of them out of the room and closed the door with a quiet, “Thank you! Do come again!” and then Blake and Maria were alone in the quiet hallway. Maria let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

“Her arrogance is going to get her killed,” Maria said. “Though, better herself than someone else, I suppose.”

Blake nodded. She didn’t like thinking about Weiss dying, especially since it had very nearly happened in her arms the night before. She didn’t really like thinking about  _ anyone  _ dying, which placed her quite squarely in the wrong vocation. Still. Maybe Pyrrha would manage to talk some reason into her.

“One thing’s for certain, though,” Maria continued. “When I go down that ladder, I’m taking my Cavalier with me.”


End file.
